Never Say Never Football Romance

Things I hadn't expected to happen on my birthday: 1. To go from brunette to orange when I was aiming for blonde. 2. To run into my ex and his new girlfriend, who happened to be sweeter than my favorite candy bar. 3. To literally collide with a wall of muscle belonging to Lucas Donovan, the extremely sexy cornerback on the Virginia Thunder. Did I say collide? No, I didn't just collide, I lingered. How could I not? The man smelled like a dream, felt like heaven, and looked like a Greek god. If I didn't know better, I would have thought my best friend wished him for me when she helped me blow out my candles. She was all about me finding Mr. Right, except I'd never been lucky in love...nor was I looking. And despite all of his wonderful attributes, Lucas wasn't my type. So when he asked for my number, I declined. Why? Because I knew he had cleat chasers and numerous athletic supporters at his beck and call. Totally not my scene. Instead, I decided to chalk our encounter up to a perfect ending to a perfectly messed-up day. Thinking I'd never see him again, imagine my surprise when he popped into my store to ask me out on a date. To say I was thrown a bit off-kilter would be an understatement. Maybe that was why I eventually accepted. Or it could be because I knew my best friend would disown me if I kept turning him down. Not to mention, the man had enough charm to fill my boutique and then some. Finally happy, I figured my luck had changed. Maybe Lucas Donovan was my Mr. Right. But then my past slammed into my present. And all I wondered was what that meant for our future.

Have you ever felt as though you were having an out-of-body experience? An ethereal feeling that you were floating in the atmosphere looking down on a situation? If not, let me tell you, it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Imagine you were at your best friend's engagement party in Vegas. You were super excited because you were the maid of honor, and the best man was the hottest football player you'd ever seen. Even this guy's position as tight end was appropriate for his, well...tight end. Anyway, there was something about his cocky attitude that ruffled your feathers and turned you on at the same time. Maybe it was the way he challenged you or because women seemed to flock to the gorgeous man. But according to him, he only had eyes for you. It didn't matter if he was kidding or not, because you weren't in the market for a serious relationship. Then, for some reason, you engaged in a drinking game. Because why not, right? You were in Vegas after all. Well, let me tell you why not, because the next morning you noticed a silver band on your left ring finger. And adding salt to that tequila-induced wound, there was one on his too. Yes, you read that right. Me, Alexa Barton, preferably always the bridesmaid and never the bride, married the uber-sexy, and let's not forget cocky, football player, Jackson Cartwright. I was a cliché. A married cliché. Whose "husband" wasn't in a hurry to get an annulment and vowed to prove that we were meant to be together.

Pro quarterbacks regularly face tough linemen determined to knock them down-but for one hotshot athlete, it was an infuriating blonde who stood the best chance of laying him on his back. I was one of the top quarterbacks in the league, riding high after scoring a lucrative deal with the DC Rockets. Fans adored me, sponsors wanted me, and women, well, they were eager to date me. Except my life revolved around football, not falling in love. Until I saw her. I'd just scored the winning touchdown, sending the Rockets into the playoffs and ending the Virginia Thunder's season. I spiked the ball and basked in the fans' cheers. I'd done it. But then I took off my helmet and locked eyes with a gorgeous blonde. She wasn't cheering. Instead, she stood with her arms crossed, glaring at me. I smirked and winked, hoping to soften her murderous expression. Except it had the opposite effect. Rather than smiling back, she lifted her hand and extended her middle finger before disappearing into the crowd. That was unexpected. After my press conference, I couldn't stop thinking about the woman in the stands. It didn't help that social media had turned our interaction into a meme, and then I found out that the beauty was none other than Reese Parker, granddaughter of Charles Reese, owner of the Virginia Thunder. Which explained her reaction…sort of. I should have been preparing for the playoffs, but all I wanted to do was convince her I wasn't enemy number one-and that scoring with me would be her best move.

People rarely catch me off guard. I'm Collin St. James, after all: starting wide receiver for the Virginia Thunder. Playing football has kept me on my toes, but nothing could have prepared me to mentor our newest teammate, kicker Charlie Nicholson. I wasn't caught off guard because I had to take someone under my wing or because Charlie was easily banging sixty-yard kicks through the uprights. It happened when the rookie's silver helmet came off, and long blonde hair spilled out. Completely baffled, I edged closer and took in the prettiest blue eyes I'd ever seen. Charlie wasn't only a complete knockout, she was also my younger sister's closest friend. When she smiled at me, I knew right then and there I was in serious trouble. The last thing I needed was a distraction, but thanks to my gorgeous new teammate-and, to my surprise, my roommate-that was exactly what I got.